


Never felt like any blessing

by honeynoir (bracelets)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracelets/pseuds/honeynoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor understands perfectly who and what River is. An AU ending  to 'Flesh and Stone'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never felt like any blessing

**Author's Note:**

> For a [spoiler_song](http://spoiler-song.livejournal.com) ficathon and [trialia](http://trialia.livejournal.com)'s prompt: _River/Eleven + Father Octavian, the Time of Angels Doctor is a later version pretending to be clueless. When Octavian's caught by the Angel, he tells him, "Father Octavian, I'm guessing you hadn't figured this part out yet, but River Song is my wife..."_
> 
> Yes, I'm taking this prompt verbatim.
> 
> Contains some dialogue from _Flesh and Stone_ , as [transcribed by the wonderful jpgr](http://jpgr.livejournal.com/97618.html). Title from _Heavy in Your Arms_ by Florence + the Machine.

  
Father Octavian clutched at the angel’s unyielding arm. “Listen to me. It's important! You can't trust her.”

“Trust who?” asked the Doctor, as innocently as possible. He had washed his hair, and when it had dried he had turned himself upside down over the TARDIS console railing to make it do that thing it used to do when he didn’t put oil in it, and then he’d stood in front of a mirror until that one part fell across his forehead. He’d dug up this self’s oldest shirt; the red one with the cuffs, and he’d enticed the TARDIS into producing an exact replica of the bowtie that used to go with it. (He’d lost the first one, and don’t ask.) The boots were the same, give or take some holes. Not that Amy would be able to tell the difference, and not that River would know unless he allowed her to stare him in the eye for longer than a second — but playing the part meant he had to feel it.

“River Song. You think you know her, but you don't. You don't understand who or what she is.”

“Father Octavian, I'm guessing you hadn't figured this part out yet, but River Song —” he fought the urge to glance to the side “— is my wife. I know that she murdered me and I know that she saved me and I _know_ she’s in prison for my sake. That’s my confession.” His throat was sore; he’d really had a lot to say today, hadn’t he? Oh, well, didn’t matter. He had the means to finish this conversation.

Octavian’s eyes were round, and he held on more tightly to the arm. “I’ve known Doctor Song for a long time. I’m the closest thing she has to a friend. Don’t trick me… sir.”

“Cross my hearts. I’m changing time and you’re going to help me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

The Doctor laughed and straightened his shoulders; ignored his running eyes and let the smell of damp moss and the crackle of electricity and the push/pull of the time field invigorate him. “Your report will say she’s eligible for a pardon. No, you will demand she gets one. You will make sure. If you care about her, and you _do_ , you will do that. I’ll throw in all of time and space, too, because I like you.” Because he’d seen River mourn the Bishop, and that was going to change.

“Even if I wanted to,” said Octavian, sweating with pain, “My death is forthcoming.”

“Yes, yes, I know, it’s breathing down your neck. Don’t worry; I have an app for Angels now.”

Octavian closed his eyes, whispering a prayer.

The Doctor was certain the answer was going to be no; that he had miscalculated. The Angel was listening, its impassionate stone face swimming at the edge of his vision. (Don’t blink.) It was going to die.

“All right.” Octavian stirred, opened his eyes again. “I’m with you, sir.”

 

 

When they eventually made it to the primary flight deck, River faced them with her hands on her hips. “What on Earth took you so long?”

“Oh, you know. Talking.” The Doctor helped the Bishop into a seat.

River glanced sharply at Octavian; he merely matched her, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

The Doctor clapped his hands, rubbed them together. “Right! How’s it going in here?”

“I’ve got the teleport working,” said River, slowly turning her attention to him.

“Ah, yes, good!” He stepped up to her, wound an arm around her waist. Caught Octavian’s eye and winked. “Now, then, let’s save Amy, and the clerics, and the stars and all the worlds beyond!”  



End file.
